Somewhere In Between
by wooks
Summary: An exploration of the theme 'One night can change your entire life' through the eyes and experience of Abby Lockhart. *Chapters 5 now uploaded* Please R/R.
1. Prologue

Somewhere In Between

Prologue

Authors: CCC and Robbie ( wooksrus@yahoo.com )

Spoilers: Up to and including the Season 8 finale "Lockdown." 

Archive: Please ask first! Contact us as wooksrus@yahoo.com 

Disclaimer: Carter & Abby are the property of the big shots at NBC, Warner Brothers, Amblin Productions etc … However Dylan is my own creation.

Sara's Author's Notes: The part was written by me but, I must say a *huge* thanks to Robbie for her creative input and beta'ing.

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            On a day like today I'm happy to hear my baby Dylan fusing because that means that I'm alive and I'm ok. It means I've made it through all the trials in my life and finally found happiness. And what better to show for all the struggles than this beautiful baby boy? He's what helped me keep it together, because without him I never would have had a reason to take control. 

            Still sometimes, I find myself thinking of everything I went through to achieve this peace in my life. I remember my vulnerable moment when Carter's lips locked with mine and he turned my life upside down. Nothing made sense anymore. I didn't like the chaos my life had become. Battling my alcoholism had taken the back burner in my life. I felt myself slipping back into my alcoholic ways and it scared me. 

            Back then I was questioning my feelings for Carter. If you asked me today how I feel I'd tell you I love him. I'd show you the ring on my finger and the slight bulge of my stomach. All the more proof of my love and a living testimonial that today I'm sober and in control. 

            Then…then was a totally different story. I knew that maybe I did still love him, but too much had happened. I was too vulnerable to start a relationship, because of the off chance that something would go wrong. I know I'd begin a downward spiral into the darkness that was my addiction. Little did I know just how right I was. 

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TBC … 


	2. Part 1

Somewhere In Between

Part II

Authors: CCC and Robbie ( wooksrus@yahoo.com )

Spoilers: Up to and including the Season 8 finale "Lockdown." 

Archive: Please ask first! Contact us as wooksrus@yahoo.com 

Disclaimer: Carter & Abby are the property of the big shots at NBC, Warner Brothers, Amblin Productions etc …

CCC's Author's Notes: The part was written by Robbie and me.  Again I must say a *huge* thanks to Robbie for beta'ing.

Robbie's Ramblings: Despite what she says, I really only helped a little with this part, mostly beta-ing, some re-wording, and a couple of paragraphs.  

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_2 Years Earlier … Carter's POV_

     I hear the door open, but I don't need to look up. Somehow I already know its Abby. I hear her open her locker, and then close it. I wonder how much longer we can be in the same room and not talk to each other. I can't take it anymore. I take a chance and decide to speak.

     "How much longer are we going to keep this up?" my tone is a little harsher than I intended.

     "Keep what up?" she snaps back.

     "This. This game where we pretend that nothing's happened between us. Why can't we deal with it? I kissed you. And you kissed me back" I can feel myself beginning to lose my temper. I take a breath and try to calm down. For a moment I can't read her, and then I see it. I've got her.

     She sits down at the table and for what seems like an eternity she just stares at me. Inside I'm screaming "say something" but I stay silent knowing she'll talk when she's ready.

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_Abby's POV_

     Knowing I can't pretend that nothing happened for another second, I try my best to answer. But I know that whatever I say right now, it's not going to be enough for him. I take a deep breath and I'm about to begin speaking when Kerry busts into the lounge.

     "You're not being paid to have a social hour! Carter, you have patients! And Abby, you have the nerve to come in late and then sit around and chat? Get to work!" 

     Rolling my eyes, I stand up, get myself together, and head out of the lounge. I'm still not quite ready to face the day ahead of me. 

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_That night…_

     Lighting up a cigarette I look out into the dark night sky, and reflect on long day I've had and how tired I am. Why is it that whenever you're in a really foul mood, something happens to bring you further down? Today of all days, I lost a patient. A girl not more than three came in after being hit by a car. One second she was laughing and chasing her ball at the edge of her yard, and the next, a car unexpectedly swerved into her yard and hit her head on. And to make matters worse, the woman driving was drunk and the entire accident could have be avoided completely. 

     Thinking about that drunken woman acts as a subtle reminder of how out of control my life could get. Say tonight, I talk to Carter and things work out and we get together. I'm fine and I'm happy. But, what happens in thirty minutes, in a day, or in a week when we get into our first fight? I'm going to resort to alcohol and probably drink myself into an incoherent and disconnected state. What happens when I'm the one in that car robbing that little girl of her life at the tender age of three? Before I know what's going on, I have tears streaming down my face. 

     I hear the door open then close. By the silence I know its Carter. Quickly I try to get myself together.

     "Abby?" I don't turn around, but still I know it's too late. He saw the tears.

     "Abby, what's wrong?" he asks gently. John Carter, always the caring one. I can't deal with this now. Why does he have to care so much? When I don't answer he says my name again causing me to snap.

     "What!?" and as I turn and look at him I notice my pain mirrored in his eyes. He doesn't say anything, and instead backs off. He turns to leave, but I stop him.

     "John wait!" he turns to look at me, waiting.

     "I'm sorry. I know we have to talk, but I'm just not ready. I have to deal with me first!"

     "Abby that's where you're wrong! I can help you; all you do is say the word. We can get through this together!"

     "No Carter! That's where you're wrong! I need to do this for myself. I need to prove I can make it on my own first!" 

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     I remember my anger as I left the ER that night. Once again Carter had managed to break down the walls, walls I'd spent lifetimes building up around me. I knew going to the bar that night was going to come back and haunt me later. But I didn't care about later; I wanted his voice out of my head now. 

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_The next morning … _

     I wake up in a strange bed that isn't mine. Images of drinks, a twirling leather bar-stool, a mysterious stranger by my side, and billowing sheets whirr about my tired and confused head. Am I dreaming? 

     Before I know it, I'm out of there, propelled by some unknown overpowering force. I'm on the EL now, rocking back and forth and murmuring comforting words to myself like a madwoman. Maybe if I keep my arms secured around my body, it'll all go away and I'll be safe... 

     What's happened to me? 

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Feedback is muchly appreciated and can be directed to wooksrus@yahoo.com.  Thanks for your support! 


	3. Part 2

Somewhere In Between

Part II

Authors: CCC and Robbie ( wooksrus@yahoo.com )

Spoilers: Up to and including the Season 8 finale "Lockdown." 

Archive: Please ask first! Contact us as wooksrus@yahoo.com 

Disclaimer: Carter & Abby are the property of the big shots at NBC, Warner Brothers, Amblin Productions etc …

Authors Note: Hey all … 'tis me, Robbie.  Big surprise, eh? In my endeavors to help CCC with the first part of this story, I ended up being coerced into producing a part of my own.  Not that I mind, I love to write! But anyhow, I must give credit to CCC for this production is entirely her idea with some input on my part. So, thanks to her for beta-ing her own story as written by Moi. This chapter alone is written by me and the ideas in the chapter are mine, save the basic framework which does belong to her. I'd love to hear your thoughts on it (as would she).  I am happy to announce, with my writing of this part, I've officially joined the team and this fic, complete with a changed outcome is now a co-authored work. 

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_A few days later … _

The world spins nauseatingly about my body.  But I'm fixed in place, unmoving.  People around me bustle about.  They have places to go, people to see, things to do.  I'm in my own little world.  I can hear them speaking, I interact … but my mind is elsewhere. 

            Something is wrong with me.  Each second I take a step forward, I feel as if I'm violating my body.  Because as much as I'd like to admit I have no idea what's going on with me, I know. With each passing moment, it becomes harder and harder to deny it, to ignore it. 

            Said thing all boils down to that notorious, unforgettable night that occurred not long ago.  Despite the fact that certain events of that afternoon and consequent evening are suspended in a mental fog so thick I can barely even remember the tiniest detail, other memories break through like sunlight; clear as a bright light shines forth from a light house. 

            I know I was drunk.  I know I met a man, a blond haired, blue eyed man whose eyes were so clear and deep I could see my tousled reflection in them.  I know we spent the evening together sitting on the plush round seats of the bar.  I remember growing drowsy at his side.  But from there things go blank until morning. 

            And I don't quite know what happened in those foggy, semi-conscious hours between the time I became over-drowsy and the time I woke up.  What I do know is that I rose from sleep in a dimly lit, dank room that reeked of alcohol.  The white sheets entangled around my naked body were dirty, stained, and pricked at my delicate skin.  The walls were painted an off-white color, but chipped with lack of care.  The window was open, letting the room bask in the soft rays of sun-light. A warm breeze blew the dark mahogany shutters against the wall resulting in a banging noise only filtered by the incessant whiz of the ceiling fan that whipped a thin covering of dust about the room.      

            I still have so many questions.  What the hell happened in those crucial hours that I can't seem to recall?  Each time I allow these questions to cross my mind, a shuddering sense of dread wrenches through my body.  My fingers go cold and begin to shake and my heart begins to pound in my chest. 

            That feeling is only too similar to the one I felt waking up in that strange, uncomfortable room: The gut-wrenching fear, breathlessness, and grief that overcame me as I sluggishly stumbled around the empty room, picking up my clothing and draping it chaotically about my shivering body as my head throbbed with pain the entire time. And I got out of there as quick as I possibly could, luckily without encountering the owner of the home. 

            The unknown is still what gets to me.  I can't handle not knowing anymore.  I'm fairly sure we slept together, otherwise why would I have woken up completely naked? Whether it was consensual or rape … I can never be sure.  But for now, I find myself closed into an empty exam room at the hospital, mid-shift.  The darkness of the room envelops me, providing sanctuary from the madness of the hospital.  

            Beside me, on a cold metal tray, sits a pair of latex gloves, a syringe to draw my blood, an order form to send to the lab, a ball-point pen, and a container to hold the sample.  My fingers are trembling, and I feel like a shroud of frigid air is covering my body.  _At least County's air-conditioning is finally working, I think to myself bitterly._

            I _need to do this before someone notices I'm missing and comes looking for me.  I told Jerry I was re-stocking some supplies in here.  __Was that a mistake? Is someone going to come barging in, mid stick? And suddenly my thoughts turn on myself … __Why am I such a coward … Can't I just do this at home? Why am I so terrified? But __      I know.  This veil that's been hanging over me since that night is something serious.  Something that could change my life forever. _

               Pregnancy.  

            Because in that split second that I find out I'm pregnant, my whole life changes.  Suddenly it's not just about Abby anymore; it's about a helpless little baby who needs my care 24/7.  And not just any baby, it's mine.  My own flesh and blood.  My baby. 

            But before I drive myself crazy thinking about the what-ifs, the maybes, the what-then's … I need to know.  And so here I am, closed into an empty exam room at the hospital, mid-shift, preparing myself for a pregnancy test.  

            I gingerly reach out for the syringe, first tying the tourniquet onto my upper arm.  I take a deep breath, still facing away from the door.  I'm home free … I just need to do this.  

            Like a scene from a horror movie, there's a strange creaking noise as I reach out for the needle.  It's a figment of my imagination, I ignore it.  I hear footsteps drawing closer and stifle a shriek. 

            "Abby?" Oh god. It wasn't my imagination.  The syringe drops to the floor in slow motion, hitting the linoleum with a sickening crash.  

            His voice is etched with worry and surprise but I'm not too dumb to sense the questioning it possesses.  One word and I can read him like a book. I slowly turn around, pivoting on the rolling metal stool.     

            "What are you doing?" This time his words are laden with accusation, but I know he didn't mean to be this harsh.  I've been skirting around him for days, ignoring his pleading looks, invitations to talk, and offers for help.  He wants answers.  

            "Go away, Carter … this is none of your business."  My words seem to puncture him in the chest and I can almost see him visibly deflate.  Or is that my eyes playing tricks on me, knowing that I'm worthy of deception after hurting the man I care so deeply for?  But he doesn't deserve to be pulled into this mess I've created. 

            "No." He's adamant, defiant, strong, and sure of himself.  I'm not going to win this one, I'm so weak.  Suddenly he softens, and takes a step towards me, holding out a friendly hand. "What's the matter?" 

            Tears sting the back of my eyes.  I don't want him to be nice to me right now, I'll break down.  I can't depend on him like this! "Please, John …" I'm pleading with him now, but I've already lost this battle.  He takes my cold hands in his, rubbing the back of my palm gently with his thumb. 

            "Something's wrong, Abby." He pauses for a moment, contemplating what to say next. He takes a breath, searching my face for answers. "Why are you shutting me out? I want to help you. Please, Abby … let me help you."

            "I can't let you do that," I murmur, slipping my hands out of his grip, and standing up.  I turn to the opposite wall to gain composure and begin to pace the room. 

            "At least tell me what's going on …" Now he's pleading with me, grasping at straws.  How easy would it be right now to sling some demeaning insult in his face and make him angry? How easy it _would be to refuse him again … yell at him angrily and get into some unnecessary fight.  But I don't.  We've done this before.  It hurts our friendship, but the tie we have is so strong, nothing can sever it.  And for that reason, it hurts even more. _

            I can't just blow him off, can I?  Why can't I just fall into his arms sobbing and tell him everything so he can make it all better? It's because I've wronged him, violated the terms of our relationship, and alienated him from my life.  I feel like I've ruined all prospects of a possible relationship between us, and that scares me.  He's sitting there watching me, waiting for my reply.  If I start talking, I might not be able to stop.  From there, I'll start hysterically crying and that will be the end of things. 

            The silence is deafening.  We're both getting anxious, and the tension is so thick you could cut it with a knife.  We've already been through so much together, why this? So many confrontations, they always seem to end bitterly.  Just maybe, maybe there's a chance I can keep things from going bad this time. 

            I slump my shoulders in defeat.  I'm preparing him. "John.  I … I've really screwed things up this time." My voice is quiet and bitter and for a moment, I wonder if he's really heard me. 

            But he looks up from the invisible spot on the floor and meets my eyes.  He chooses his words carefully, perhaps trying, much like me, to keep things civil. "Screwed up how?" That shield of bravery and valor has been set on the floor, and I can see he's scared to hear my answer. That doesn't work to help things at all.  The guilt sets in. 

            I'll make this quick and painless. "I might be pregnant, John." I gesture towards the metal tray, "That's what this is.  A pregnancy test." Instantly, I regret my words. He takes it as a sharp blow, stepping back mid-sigh.  My tone was too harsh.  

"John?" Our roles are reversed again … now I'm pleading with him, talking in a hushed murmur, begging for his understanding guidance.  

He shakes his head, but I have no idea what he's feeling. Regret? Anguish? Pity? Anger? Carter begins to pace back and forth.  He looks up abruptly, "Is it Luka's?" 

"No. John, God. No." I briefly wonder if I'm apologizing to him. But I'm feeling too many emotions right now to make anything of this. 

"Then who's is it?" He's accusing me again, getting angry. That shield has been raised and he's trampling me on the floor. 

An alien noise escapes my mouth, surprising us both.  It's like a cross between a stifled sob and a desperate plea for help. But I break down and the tears start running down my cheek.  "I don't know."

His eyes widen in shock. "You don't know?" I can't articulate an answer, only shake my head. "Are you sure you're pregnant?" I shake my head again, trying to convey to him that I don't know yet and still need to take the test. 

He's silent.  And somehow, the silence is worse than the sound of his accusations.  "Say something," I croak.  And he shakes his head and turns to leave the room. 

His hand turns the knob, and I'm sure that he's done speaking to me.  But I've misjudged him again as he turns his head to me once more.  A painful anguish is imprinted across his familiar features as he speaks, "I thought we had a chance, Abby.  I can't believe this …" 

"John, wait! Let me explain." I jump up and start to walk towards him, but the heavy door shuts in my face. 

And just like he came, he's gone.  Again, I'm alone.  My stomach sinks with a sickening thud and without the results of the test, I know I'm pregnant.  Abby the screw up has screwed up again.

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Thoughts, Comments, Suggestions? 


	4. Part 3

Somewhere In Between

Part 3

Authors: CCC and Robbie ( wooksrus@yahoo.com )

Spoilers: Up to and including the Season 8 finale "Lockdown." 

Archive: Please ask first! Contact us as wooksrus@yahoo.com  

Disclaimer: Carter & Abby are the property of the big shots at NBC, Warner Brothers, Amblin Productions etc …

CCC + Robbie's Notes: Hey again! 'Tis us back with more. Didn't think we do it huh? Thought we'd forgotten about it. Nope! Feedback is appreciated, you know where to send it! And again this part was written by the both of us.

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I'm seeing pink.  But that can't be right.  Because a pink line on this little plastic applicator would imply that I really am pregnant, but that can't be.  It's blue. It _has to be blue. I can't raise a baby.  For that matter, I can't raise a baby whose father is some drunken bastard who might as well have raped me. _

My eyes are shut tightly, clutching the tiny apparatus for dear life.  I'm so dizzy. In the past couple of days, my world has become hazy, and I briefly wonder if instead of living in my world, I'm suspended in a bizarre dream universe where nothing seems to make sense.  With my eyes closed, my fantasies manifest themselves, twisting my thoughts and merely adding to my confused state.  I take a deep breath and open my eyes to the real world and the harsh reality that my worst fear has come true: I'm pregnant.

The feelings coursing through my mind aren't new.  There was a time, many years ago when I was placed in a similar situation: pregnant with the baby of a man who wasn't in love with me.  The only difference was, he was my husband.  And so, being young, frightened, and utterly ignorant as to the ramifications of my actions I promptly had an abortion.  I took the easy way out, terminated the life of my baby and all my problems in one fell swoop. 

But I can't do that this time.  This time it's different.  I can't blame this on anyone. I can't take the easy way out.  Because this time an abortion would only cause more problems.  I'd still have Carter to deal with and my alcoholism.  My alcoholism…an abortion would only make my life worse.  Worse, is that even possible?

And as much as I'd like to say it's all John Carter's fault, I can't do that either.  That childish act of pointing fingers and blaming someone else has to stop.  I look into the mirror and see the slightest bulge beginning to form.

Suddenly, things begin to sink in.  I'm finally realizing what this will mean.  Looking at my life, I'm ashamed.  I'm in no shape to care for a baby.  I can't even care for myself.  I laugh bitterly at myself.  But in all honestly this is no laughing matter, it's my life.  My screwed up life.  I can't bring an innocent child into this.  No baby deserves to deal with this.  

With a raw vengeance, Carter's words reverberate through my head. _I thought we had a chance, Abby.  I can still hear his painful tone; still see the hurt in his chocolate brown eyes.  Somehow it's all too familiar to me, and then I remember why.  The day I moved back in, Carter came by, and he saw me with a beer in my hand.  _

Once again I've let him down.  I don't need him to tell me that.  I just know.  You would think many years of screwing up would make it easier to deal with.  It's not true, not when pregnancy is the mistake.  No, I've really done it this time. 

And to make matter's worse; I've lost the one person I need most.  Not that can ever admit it to him.  It was too much of a struggle just to admit it to myself.  

_A few days later…_

It's been a few days since I've seen Carter.  I haven't been to work in a few days either.  I told Kerry I'd be out all week because I think I have the flu.  Carter's the only one who knows the real reason.  Although I suppose that'll have to change soon too.  Looking down at my stomach I know I can't hide much longer.  I'm already showing.

Each day that passes brings me closer to the birth of this baby. I still need to see my OB and verify that everything is okay, in addition to getting started on some pre-natal vitamins.  I should probably start shopping around for bargains on baby nursery items … doing this single-parent thing is going to be no walk in the park.   

I heave a large sigh. I've still got a rough road ahead of me, and I need to get moving.  First things first, I need to fix things with Carter.  When it all comes down to it, he's my best friend and I can't live with him so angry at me.  I'm slowly sinking into paranoia.  The phone rings and I jump, wondering if it's him.  Every time I've walked into a store in the past week and seen a man with dark brown tresses and of a moderately similar build, I'm on edge wondering if it was him until I cross the threshold of my apartment.

The hard cold truth is that I can't make peace with this until he can.  However long that takes … 

Gently, I finger the raised numbers on the telephone that rests in the palm of my hand.  His number is indelibly ebbed into my mind, fastened by an invisible bond that can only be broken by the shutdown of my mind through a debilitating disease. Against my warm skin, the smooth plastic feels cold and alien. I've been sitting here for the past couple of minutes contemplating, like I do everyday, whether or not I should call him.  We need to talk things over.  And I need to bury the hatchet between us.  

Before my frazzled nerves can contemplate what's happening ... the phone is ringing.  I've dialed and he's answering the phone. 

"Hello?" I've woken him up.  His voice is fuzzy, warm with sleep.  I steal a glance at the clock and murmur a curse under my breath.  No kidding he's sleeping, Abby … it's 3 am.  

"John … it's me" I pause. The lilting tone of my voice is unreal, it sounds calm and serene with a touch of scratchiness from lack of use.  Seemingly, they're good compliments of each other, my voice and my mind.  Complete opposites. 

I hear him yawn and visualize him stretching out as the wooden bed creaks with disapproval.  "Abby?"

"Yeah." 

I've called him, woken him up from what was a deep sleep judging from the grogginess in his voice, and now I have absolutely nothing to say to him.  Great Abby, just great. In the next momentary silence I wonder if maybe he's fallen back asleep.  It sure would have solved my problems.   

But I suppose in our separation, I've lost the connection with him that lets me read him so well, as he begins to speak again, a hint of annoyance flavoring the exhaustion. "Listen Abby, don't take this the wrong way, but I have a shift in an hour.  Is there a reason you called?"

"I'm sorry," I blubber. "I'll call back later …" 

Through my stream of mental curses I almost don't hear him speak. "Abby wait.  You wouldn't call if there wasn't a reason. What's the matter?" 

I don't know what to do.  Laugh, cry, scream, or maybe we need to talk this through.  Maybe I need to take control of this situation, not try to worm my out of things again, and get past this.  If I'm lucky and I play my cards right, maybe we can work this out and I'll be up one best friend. I need to be the adult here.

Only problem is I'm not sure John is thinking the same thing.  Perhaps he's had enough and figures I'm not worth the trouble. Perhaps I'm not. 

"Can we talk?" I sound so timid, unsure, and mouse-like.  This time, my voice matches my feelings.  I'm so afraid he'll say no and that will be the end.  

This wasn't the approach I wanted.  I need to be firm and demanding but seek his guidance and comfort at the same time.  My emotions are so contorted right now, I don't know what to feel, what to think, or more importantly how to act.  I can't close him out completely, but at the same time, letting him in completely is going to be the only to get him on my side of things. 

"What's there to talk about, Abby?" He sure does know how to get under my skin, despite what efforts I make to keep abreast of the situation.  His words act like a searing dagger, puncturing my heart and splintering it in the midst of an overwhelming guilt.  Amazing how something as simple as the six words he's just effortlessly rattled off into the darkness can have such an adverse effect on me.  

            "This. Us. Everything." 

            He laughs bitterly.  He's very awake all of a sudden.  I can almost taste the tension he secretes with each word. "What do you want me to say?"

            "Nothing.  I need you to listen."  Oh god, please.  Please.  There is sheer silence as I await his answer.  I can hear him breathing heavily on the other side of the connection.  It almost sounds like he's struggling to keep himself from something.  But what? Is he holding back unbridled tears, a severe lashing out aimed in my direction?  

            "I'm listening, Abby." 

            I release a sigh I didn't know I was holding. "Good.  Thank you." Where do I start? I've spent this week at home going over this conversation in my mind a hundred thousand times.  He's waiting for me to speak, but all I can think about is the feel of his lips brushing, tender and warm, against my mouth.  Sitting quietly and waiting for me to speak, he's rendered me speechless.  It's events of the near past that are affecting me this way.    

            "I'm going to start from the beginning of this.  Feel free to stop me or jump in at any time, but what I'm going to tell you … it needs to be said." I'm undressing before him; slowly and sensuously stripping down to the tenderest parts of me.  Parts that even my most intimate sexual partners have never seen; my innermost feelings, thoughts, and maybe some pleas.  

            Somehow I know he's nodding, drinking in every word that escapes my mouth like a thirsty puppy clambering for its mother's milk. And suddenly, I realize something.  The words I'm pouring out aren't a product of my thoughts and the musings of my mind.  Right now, I'm speaking from the heart.  

"Go ahead, Abby.  I'm here, I'm listening" His voice has changed.  It's soft and soothing, gently but eagerly goading me to move forward.  It's the voice I'd expect him to use, tenderly rocking our baby to sleep.  With this last comment, he's opened the doors to letting me speak my heart to him, almost as if he could read my newfound revelation in my voice.  

            "I guess this whole mess started that day … with the smallpox.  You remember?" We're talking.  Really talking.  I almost want to cry out in exuberance.  

            He laughs that bitter laugh again, although this time it's tinged with regret. "A potentially fatal virus that hasn't been seen in decades enters the ER and we treated both the kids, how could I possibly forget?" 

            "You know that isn't what I'm talking about." 

            "I know." He sounds so sorrowful, I want nothing more than to take him in my arms and smother him with kisses like a small child with a scratch.  Band-aids can't help this kind of pain, though.  We have to talk this through.  

            I need to cut to the point or we're going to skirt around this for the rest of the night. "John. When you kissed me that night …" 

            "You don't need to say it, Abby.  I shouldn't have, I was wrong."

            "No!" I cling desperately to my composure. "When you kissed me … John, that was the greatest moment of my life.  For the ten seconds your lips were locked with mine, everything in the world was perfect."

            "So what happened?"

            "I honestly don't know.  I was scared.  I was so consumed with fear, for everything.  For our lives, our relationship, our future. Going home after the way we exposed ourselves to each other left too much on my mind.  So I did the only thing I knew how to do.  I got drunk.  The only catch was this time; I fell into bed with some stranger and got knocked up."

            "Have you seen your OB? Maybe …" He's hopeful all of a sudden, but I have to remove the possibility from his mind.  I feel like such a bitch, but it will only make things harder.  I interrupt him.  

            "We used a condom, John.  I wish … I wish the baby was yours.  Things would be so much easier that way."

            "So you're sure you're pregnant." 

            I pause, the regret now creeping into my own voice. "Yeah," I whisper delicately. Then with more solidity and conviction, "Yes, I'm sure."

            "You could do a DNA test … to be sure." 

            But I can't let him do that to me and to himself.  If I'm going to let him back into my life, baby or no, it has to be for me.  If this is going to work, we need to build a relationship upon a mutual love and trust.  

It's all I can do not to burst into tears now. We were doing so well, sharing our feelings. Now I'm stuck up against a wall, with little to say. So I pause, sighing loudly and heavily. 

"What is it, Abby?" 

Do I dare tell him my reasons? "I don't want to know who the father of this baby is.  That way, I can pretend it's you and not that jerk that might as well have raped me." I'm almost yelling now, breaking into hysterical tears.

"I want something between us, John. I want you to take me in your arms and kiss me and hold me and love me.  You promised me everything was going to be okay." I'm rambling now, telling him things that I should really keep to myself, but I can't.  I'm never like this, I'm supposed to stay in control and keep my emotions to myself.  Nobody can help me but myself, and I don't need anybody's help. The damn hormones are turning me into something I'm not.  But John needs to hear this eventually, and if this is how it's going to happen, so be it. 

"I want you to be the father of my baby so badly, John.  I want to wake up every morning and know that a little piece of you is growing inside my body, taking nourishment from me.  I want you to be with me in the delivery room, holding my hand and after the birth for you to be able to kiss the downy hair on the head of my newborn and think 'This is the baby that I made with Abby.' That's what I want for my baby, and knowing that it might not be true is too much for me to handle. If you're willing I want to raise this baby as if it is ours."

I pause now, incredulous at the things I've said.  Somehow, an unknown force swept over me and began to control my mouth saying things that I didn't even realize I want.  But now, having said them, I know they're all true.  Again, John is silent, only this time the soundless atmosphere is punctuated by my heaving breaths, sniffling, and an occasional hiccup. 

            Before him, I'm now naked.  Like an onion, he's peeled me, layer for layer, reaching deeper and deeper down into my essence.  Now that we're finished, my soul lies in a crumpled heap upon the floor as I stand, waiting any sort of reaction from his direction. Together, sharing these feelings with each other like this, we've just been more intimate with each other than we could have ever hoped.  Tonight we've reached a heightened sense of understanding.  And somehow, through a faint glimmer of hope that's looming in the distance, I know we're going to be okay.

            He hasn't said much yet. "John?" I wonder aloud, my voice begging for his reply. 

            "I'm still here, Abby." He sounds flabbergasted and for a moment I pray this is some cruel trick by my subconscious and this is actually a dream. 

            "I'm sorry.  I have no idea where that came from …" I'm beginning to ramble again until he abruptly cuts me off.       

"No, it's fine.  I … I had no idea you felt this way." He pauses thoughtfully, to collect his thoughts maybe? "When I heard you and that other man had … you know, I took it as a sign you didn't feel the way I did. But it seems like I was wrong."

"You were."

"I guess I can respect your wishes not to do the DNA testing.  I know it's a long shot, but the chance that the baby might be …"

Each time he suggests it, my heart breaks.  But it can't be.  It's been at least a month since that night we were quarantined together.  The same night we kissed … and the kiss became something more.  Besides, I had my period last month.  The baby can't be his.  There's no point in thinking it might be.  

"Please.  Don't say it."

"I'm sorry.  Listen, I have a shift … sleep on things and I'll talk to you later, okay? "

"Yeah. Bye John."

"Bye."

I hang up the phone, realizing that I never got an answer to my question.  He'll sleep on things … but what the morning may hold is a completely different story.  

---------------

            To be continued.  We'd love to hear your thoughts. 


	5. Part 4

Somewhere In Between

Part 4

Authors: CCC and Robbie ( wooksrus@yahoo.com )

Spoilers: Up to and including the Season 8 finale "Lockdown." 

Archive: Please ask first! Contact us as wooksrus@yahoo.com 

Disclaimer: Carter & Abby are the property of the big shots at NBC, Warner Brothers, Amblin Productions etc … However Dylan is my own creation.

C's Notes: Thanks so much to Robbie for taking on this project with me. This chapter is her creation. And all the credit goes to her on this one. 

Robbie's Ramblings: I'm so glad I decided to take on this project because it's turned out to be so much fun! Which makes me sound kind of like things are winding up, but they're not.  The end is in sight, yes … but we have some more up our sleeves so stay tuned and keep reviewing.  As usual, your feedback is what helps lift us out of writer's block. Like CCC said, this chapter is again, all my creation, but thanks to her for beta-ing and for her support! 

**--------------------------**

**            I step into the steamy shower feeling like my body has just been whipped through a blender on high speed followed by a complete gutting, fish style, only to be finished off with a re-stuffing.  In short, I'm drained.  **

Physically I feel like every time I attempt to move a muscle, I'm met with a vengeful and searing pain of protest.  I feel like I have the energy to do things, but somewhere between my head and limbs the signals are getting mixed up, contorting into painful reminders of my fatigue. It's all I can do not to crawl right back into bed every time I stand up. 

My mouth is parched from dehydration.  The nurse in me knows that I should be making a better effort to be drinking, but everything it seems like everything I put into my body is soon violently regurgitated.  My throat is sore from vomiting so much and my back and neck ache from spending so much time hunched over the toilet seat, heaving and retching.  

The wisps of steam from the scalding water blend nicely with the beads of cold sweat clinging to my forehead and back and send a chill down my spine.  I sigh deeply; inhaling the soothing vapors and allowing the water to cascade along my tender body.  As the water retains a massaging effect, I allow myself to daydream that the "fingers" I feel trembling across my limbs are those of a certain male whom you might say I'm smitten with.  

I've always heard that pregnancy takes an extreme toll on your body.  I was ready for some morning sickness and a little bit of discomfort while my body adjusts, but the hell I'm going through is beyond anything I could ever have imagined.  I'm exhausted from a gross lack of sleep.  When I'm not lying in bed, readjusting my position every 5 seconds to find something that can suit every groaning muscle, I'm hunched over the toilet seat overcome by stomach-churning nausea.  And I was stupid enough to believe that the term morning sickness implied you were only sick in the morning. 

Emotionally, I'm no better off.  Since I spoke to Carter two nights ago, he hasn't contacted me.  I've been driving myself crazy wondering about his thoughts and reactions to the whole situation.  In addition, I'm so overcome with fear and ambivalence about carrying this stranger's baby.  Being pregnant is going to be a struggle, but I'm even more terrified by the thought of viewing my child's face.  What kind of mother has these thoughts about her own flesh and blood? What kind of mother can I be to my child if I'm having these thoughts? 

I need to get out of the house, have some intelligent conversation with my fellow human beings.  This thought is the only thing fuels me with enough energy to leave the misty flow of water and begin to get ready for another day prowling the halls of County General's ER. 

------------------ 

            I walk up to the front desk some hours later, brushing up against the hard wood with a bare arm. In my oblivion, an unseen series of rough splinters jams into my skin.  Instantaneously, the jagged, torn skin becomes a stinging scratch that sprouts tiny droplets of scarlet red blood. Feeling the sting of a whoosh of frigid air against the sensitive scratch, I curse softly under my breath.  The small racket is enough to cause Jerry to look up at me from his pile of paperwork. 

`

            A lopsided grin crosses his face. "Hey, Abby. Good to see you back, feeling better?"

            I shrug in reply. "I've been better." 

            He looks suddenly apathetic. "You better escape into the lounge before Weaver comes looking for you.  She's on the prowl today.  Watch out." 

            "Thanks Jerry, I'll see you in a couple minutes then." I turn to walk into the lounge but he stops me, reaching out to touch my shoulder blade with a large but gentle finger.  "Delivery came for you a couple of hours ago; it's on the table in the lounge." 

            I'm suddenly weary, overcome with fear by a silly gift I know nothing about. "Who's it from?"

            He shrugs. "It's not my job to go snooping around in your personal things; I'm not Weaver, after all." 

I have to smile at his attempts at humor.  It's obvious he can see the dejected lack of spring in my step and dark bags coloring my under-eyes.  

"Thanks Jerry." 

He nods again, and I cross the hall into the lounge.  Stepping in, my senses are attacked by a bouquet of simply gorgeous red roses arranged in a large glass vase that is situated next to a fuzzy brown teddy bear on the table.  A breath hitches in my throat, and I feel the familiar sting of tears behind my eyelids; damn hormones. Surely this can't be the delivery Jerry was referring to.   

I tentatively walk over to the arrangement and inhale the heavenly scent of the flowers.  I gently graze a finger-tip across one of the petals. It is powdery soft as the downy hair on a newborn; a thought that sinks to the bottom of my stomach with a sickening thud.  

A white card pokes out from the tangled green stems and I carefully reach in, taking caution not to prick myself on a thorn.  As I'm about to open it, Susan darts into the lounge, slamming the heavy door and leaning up against it tiredly, her eyes closed in a moment of peace.  I look up at her, almost guiltily as her eyes open and focus on mine. 

Even exhausted, Susan's exuberance and bubbly personality shine through. "Hey," she murmurs.  "You feeling better? Kerry said you were out with a touch of flu."

"Yeah … I'll tell you about it later, okay?" Susan's eyebrows raise, but I know that she won't probe any further.  I need to work things out with Carter before I go spreading anything around.  She walks over to the coffee pot and, taking a mug from the cabinet, begins to pour the lukewarm liquid.  

As I finger another petal between my thumb and forefinger, she looks at me almost flirtatiously. "You got a secret admirer that I don't know about?"

I almost laugh, but the sound comes out as more of a strangled moan and instead I smile at her. "If I do, it's news to me."

"Is there a card?" 

"Right here." I lift it from its precarious position on the table, and hold it up so she can see.  

"Open it, silly," she commands, downing a sip of County's excuse for coffee. A frown crosses her face as she swallows, but her eyes never leave me. 

I slit open the envelope with a fingernail and a small card drops to the floor. I bend down to pick it up, my eyes immediately focusing on the scrawled print and beginning to read. 

_Abby, _

_Talking to you the other night gave me a chance to really think about what the future holds for us.  I'm so sorry for not getting in touch sooner, but I felt it better not to talk while my emotions were still so raw.  The only way to properly do this is to speak to you in person.  Please meet me at the end of your shift up on the roof so we can talk things over. _

_                                      ~ John   _

            "It's from Carter," I whisper. 

She nods knowingly.  "I'm going to get back out there.  You take a couple minutes, okay?" As she leaves, I murmur a soft thank you, wondering for a fleeting moment if she's talked things through with Carter.  But my thoughts are soon consumed again by the possible catastrophe that might happen with him on the roof in a couple of hours.  With a sigh, I open my locker and begin to get ready to take my mind off things with work. 

------------------------- 

            The air outside is hot; balmy and humid.  In other words, not the type of day you'd spend away from the air conditioner.  I step out onto the roof, squinting in the bright sunlight and quietly shut the door behind me, all the time feeling like an undercover sleuth.  He's standing a couple of feet away from me, leaning against the wall and gazing out over the city.  He nurses what appears to be an iced coffee in his left hand, his right hand hanging idly at his side.  The warm breeze tousles his hair and I can't help but feel like he's never looked so vulnerable … or so sexy. 

            I take a step forward, planting my right leg heavily on the cemented ground.  At the sudden noise, he turns around, meeting my eyes in an intense gaze. 

            "Hey." God.  How am I going to be able to resist this man if everything down to his voice is a sultry and seductive reminder of my passion and lust for him? He takes a step towards me, and I suddenly feel like I'm being backed against the brick wall yards behind me.  A thin covering of goose bumps springs out across my arms and back and I wonder how I can suddenly be so cold in this heat.  

_            "Tell me we're going to be okay?" I murmur. My voice is the epitome of fear itself; raw and exposed. I'm begging for his reassurance, pleading for comfort amidst the feelings coursing through my body.  _

_            His eyes focus downward, fixing his gaze on something … the floor? Suddenly I'm overcome by a rush of energy that explodes across my body in goose bumps.  I'm hot and cold at the same time, waiting for his answer. I inhale sharply, but before I can release the air, his lips are on mine.  Soft and full, they grope tenderly against mine.  My hands are still wrapped around his clammy neck, and I pull him closer leaning expectantly into the kiss as he pulls away. _

_            The look in his eyes now is almost unreadable.  With my chest wrenching against my rib cage, I realize that he's terrified; looking to me for guidance.  But at the same time, the look in his eyes is so encouraging and brings such comfort. A comfort like that I've never felt before.  These new feelings devour me, and I hunger for his touch. He stands up, coming towards me and I lean in expectantly, rearranging my hands closer to his flesh. _

_            "We're going to be okay," he whispers.  My heart melts … I can't see straight.  I'm in my own fantasy world, just me and him, together in eternity.  It's a struggle to breathe as he speaks again with a newer solidity, conviction, and sureness that I've seen shine through him in midst of all troubles, time and time again, "We're going to be okay."_

_            Before I know what's happening, his lips are on mine again.  This time, I reciprocate, eagerly entering his mouth with my tongue; glorifying in his heated, salty taste.  The kiss deepens and I pull him closer as my arms snakes up his shoulder, gently massaging all the while. _

_            Standing here with him, alone, I'm transported back to that fateful day we shared our first and only kiss.  The same passionate vigor overcomes me, leaving me shivering in its wake.  His face now is friendly, inviting, urging me to speak.  But I'm lost in another time, another place, and the words simply aren't there.  I lick my dry, salty lips and struggle to remember the heavenly taste of him and the tremendous power the feeling of his lips pressing against mine produces.  I fleetingly wonder what I'm doing, attempting to draw strength from the past … _

            "Abby?" 

            My attention snaps back to him.  How insane I must look standing here, gawking into space.  But I can't break this chain of thought.  I feel like I've been hollowed, I'm empty, cold and shaking.  I close my eyes for a moment, suddenly overcome by a wave of lightheaded dizziness.  I gasp and reach out for the wall, steadying myself to gain composure.  Instantly, he's at my side, his arms latched under my armpits.  

            I shake my head to ward off these feelings and recall that I haven't eaten anything today.  After spending the day on my feet working, this is my body's way of reminding me that I'm not taking adequate care of it. I step away from his grasp, removing myself from the one thing I hunger; his touch. 

"I'm okay, John.  I haven't eaten anything today, just got a little dizzy."

He sighs, quickly catching onto the game I'm playing. I can tell he's not buying my excuses. "You sure?"

I nod vehemently.  

"Let's sit down." 

Always the perfect gentleman, he takes my hand delicately in his and leads me over to the ledge.  We sit and I wait for him to speak.  But he's silent, simply staring into my eyes, trying to read me. 

"What happened to your drink?" I wonder aloud, noticing his suspiciously empty hands. 

He chuckles and the tension is temporarily relieved.  "I guess I left it on the ledge over there." He idly motions with a hand. 

"And you're just going to leave it like that?" He shrugs, buying into my cheap attempt to make things okay between us. I chuckle. "Y'know John, tempting a pregnant coffee-addict isn't such a great idea."

"You going post-partum on me?" 

"Maybe." I shrug, and focus my eyes on the city below us.  We're stalling the inevitable again, just like always.  That damn tension is back. 

"It's decaf, you want some?" I shake my head, not looking back at him.  My skin prickles with the physical need I have to be held in his arms. Slowly, as to not startle me, he reaches out and runs a finger along my cheekbone, gently pivoting my face so that we're facing one another. 

"You okay?" 

I begin to nod, but soon I'm shaking my head no.  After all we've been through together, I can't pretend with him anymore.  He sees right through me.  "We still need to talk, John."

He nods thoughtfully, reaching out and discreetly clasping my hand in his, linking our fingers together.  I take a deep breath, composing myself again.  I seem to be doing this a lot around him.  But all it takes is a touch from his direction and that spark of electricity flies between us, and leaves my skin tingling.  Still silent, he absently rubs my knuckle with the thumb from his opposite hand. 

"This is nice, huh?" he observes, staring at some inanimate object below us.  I couldn't disagree more.  I'm in agony, waiting for him to really talk to me.  I've been in agony since we hung up the phone, but my stomach has physically started to churn, and I'm praying I won't have to jump up and throw up in the corner before we finish this conversation.  

He turns and smiles at me.  In his eyes, I can read so much confusion, indecision, conflict.  I blink and realize that it's pain, embezzled deep into his dark chocolate eyes.  Pain that I've caused him.  I bite my lip, but can't break the silence between us.  I'm feeling stifled and threatened all of a sudden.  I'm having difficulty breathing.  

"John," I beg him.  The raw fear in my voice, soft and seductive, bleeds with emotion.  My lower lip is trembling.  

"I know," he whispers.  He's admitting that he doesn't know what to say, trying to buy himself a couple more seconds to work out his conflicting emotions.  Neither of us imagined how difficult this really would be.  But I'm dying here.  I can't give him those few seconds.  

Suddenly he turns to focus on me, and my stomach lurches with the knowledge that I know his reply is coming. "I've had my eyes set on you since the first day we spoke to each other, that day I was stabbed.  Even though I didn't know you, I felt like I'd let you down by seeing my shoot up in the trauma room that day.  I'd ruined any and all chances of getting to know you better and possibly becoming friends.  But when I came back from Atlanta, things were suddenly different.  I was a new person, and you were willing to give me another chance." He smiles genuinely at me. "I've never been more grateful for that chance … just look at what we've become."

My emotions are getting the better of me and I choke back tears, managing to maintain a straight face, though my eyes never waver from his gaze.  

"As our friendship grew, it got harder and harder for me to deal with Luka and the implication that because of him, I couldn't have you." He momentarily pauses, looking flustered as the arm he's just unclasped from mine and waving like a conductor in front of a band comes to a halt.  "Not have you but …"  

John Carter is suddenly at a loss for words, and I tilt my head in silent urging for his continuance.  Not taking the hint, he rotates his wrist and shakes his hand as if sifting in the air for the words to continue.  I nod at him and crack a reassuring smile while lending a squeeze to the hand that is still clasped in mine. 

  "Go ahead." Relief at escaping the tension brakes out across his face like pimples on a teenager's.  

"When you two finally broke things off, I couldn't be the rebound guy.  Relationships like that never work out and I wanted everything for us to be perfect.  I was selfish and involved Susan in this whole mess." He pauses to smile at me, slowing breaking into an easy chuckle.  

"When we broke up after that whole sexual-harassment class, she told me that I should take my chances and go for you.  Even she could recognize that I was obviously head over heels in love." He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, but I'm not ready for him to stop speaking.  I squeeze the hand he has intertwined with mine again.  

"I was so scared that night we finally kissed.  Things weren't as perfect as I had wanted them to be, but I guess I didn't want to loose you without knowing if my feelings were one-sided. And then all this happened" He shakes his free hand, motioning again to something that doesn't exist suspended in the air. 

"So what are you trying to tell me, John?"

He smiles again. "I want to give us a chance.  Just like you did after Atlanta.  I've thought things through, and throwing away what we have is a big mistake.  If it means the baby is involved in the equation …" My brow furrows, still unsure how he really feels about this. 

"I'm still getting used to the idea of raising a stranger's baby.  And not knowing how things are going to work out … I'm ready to try, to experiment.  I see people come in here every day that regret things they never did.  Sometimes they're sick or dying and can't do anything about it. But I can, and I'm going to" 

My lip trembles and my voice wavers as I speak. "So you're saying that we're an us now?" 

I watch as the faintest smile crosses his lips and he leans in and locks his lips with mine.  That emptiness inside me fills slightly, as that amazing feeling of pure adrenaline rush runs through me.  It's that feeling I get every time I'm close enough to touch him … and he's the only one who can make me feel this way.  A tear of relief runs down my cheek and he stops to kiss it away before pulling me into a tight embrace.  

"We _are going to be okay, you wait and see."_

------------------  


	6. Part 5

Somewhere In Between

Part 5

Authors: CCC and Robbie ( wooksrus@yahoo.com )

Spoilers: Up to and including the Season 8 finale "Lockdown." 

Archive: Please ask first! Contact us as wooksrus@yahoo.com 

Disclaimer: Carter & Abby are the property of the big shots at NBC, Warner Brothers, Amblin Productions etc … However Dylan is my own creation.

Author's notes: We're back. Stay tuned for more in the near future … now that summer is finally here, be prepared to expect the unexpected … 

--------------- 

            I grab my purse from the counter, sling a light jacket over my shoulder and lunge for the door to quall the incessant banging of my caller.  

            "Abby? You alive in there?" feminine voice calls, its owner sounding tentatively worried mixed with a hint of annoyance. 

            "Sorry," I mutter, opening the door and temporarily jamming the piece of toast clutched in my hand into my open mouth.  Susan walks into my messy apartment confidently and laughingly reaches out to take something from my filled hands.  

            "Thanks." I remove the toast from my mouth as she looks on with a smile.  "Sorry about that … alarm didn't go off and I overslept," I quickly explain. 

            She waves her arm carelessly. "Don't worry about it.  You ready to go, or do you need a couple minutes?"

            I shrug, chewing away at the morsel of food still in my mouth and swallow.  "No. I'm ready … let's go."

            "Great!" She smiles brightly and we walk to the door.  I reach a hand up to my mouth and try to discreetly brush away any crumbs from my breakfast.  As I lock the front the door, Susan's face turns thoughtful. 

            "Did you call him?" She wonders aloud, turning to look me straight in the eye. 

            I'm not in the mood for an interrogation right now.  We're here to go shopping as two friends.  No men allowed.  No talk of men allowed.  So I revert to the tried and tried again method of feigning innocence. "Who?"

            She rolls her eyes and ignores me.  "I tried calling you again last night after we hung up but the line was busy."

            I pull the key from the door as we turn to walk down the hall.  "I was ordering a pizza.  Cheese with pepperoni and pineapple."

            "That's gross, Abby!" She exclaims, her face still merry. 

            I nod. "I had a craving for something a little out of the ordinary."  She looks at me quizzically.

            "Pepperoni and pineapple? That's not out of the ordinary, that's just wrong … it goes against all the conventional rules of pizza etiquette."

            "Pizza etiquette?" I raise my eyebrows at her.  "Besides, it was good.  It hit the spot."

            She laughs.  "And here I was thinking you were having a heart to heart with Carter … and you were gorging yourself with some lame excuse for a pizza."

            I shrug. "I don't know, Susan, the delivery boy was kind of cute. Maybe it was a good idea Carter and I haven't quite worked things out yet."

            Susan punches me playfully in the shoulder. "You did *not* just say that, he's way out of your league."

            I shrug again.  "Maybe."  

            And the silence again creeps into the conversation.  Damn the man I love.  No matter what I do, he's always with me; in my thoughts, in my mind, in my dreams, in my heart. He has that awesome power – like I'm the puppet to his master.   

            I sigh and see Susan perk up next to me as we reach the bottom of the large flight of stairs. "Where to?" Susan asks.  

---------------------- 

            Lugging a series of stuffed shopping bags, Susan and I slowly make our way up the stairs.  We reach the door, and I fiddle about in my purse for the key.  Susan watches me with animated amusement as I become frustrated with the lack of key sitting in my palm. 

            "Here it is!" I hold it up in triumph for us both to see.  She smiles at me and I quickly unlock the door.  "Come on in for awhile."

            Susan steps over the threshold and sets down the bags in my front foyer.  "I really should be going Abby, but thanks."

            I look at her sincerely. "No thank you, Susan.  I really appreciate today … it was a lot of fun." She nods. "Are you sure you won't stay for a little while, it's the least I can do, and besides, I'm starving!" Susan starts to shake her head, but I quickly intercept. "Come on, we'll order take-out.  It's on me." 

            "As long as you promise *I* get to pick the food." I shoot her a grin. 

            "Deal."

            Susan walks over to the couch in the nook of my living room and sits down.  She reaches into one of the many shopping bags and pulls out a fleecy yellow sleeper with a blue rabbit embroidered into the upper right breast.  A wistful smile crosses her face. 

            "Susie used to have a little outfit just like this, you know … she was such a sweet baby; had the clearest blue eyes, the brightest little smile." 

            Susan sighs, still lost in her memory.  I can see the unresolved anger and hurt pent up in her regretful expression.  And like a ton of bricks hitting me in the head, it suddenly dawns on me that she's lonely.  I've been so caught up in my own problems; I haven't realized how hard this preparation for another baby is for her.  She would make an amazing mother, but has no man share a baby with.  She's lost so much – her sister, her niece, Mark, Carter … and I haven't been there for her at all.  I wonder why she even bothers to be my friend, I'm no catch …       

            "Abby?" I look up guiltily.  She's caught me again in the midst of my thoughts, staring off silently into space. 

            "Yeah?"

            She shakes her head.  "You still hungry?"

            "Yeah. Chinese?" I offer. 

            Susan nods.  "I know this great little place right near my apartment … we could go there if you want." 

            I plop down heavily on the couch beside her, kicking off my shoes and lifting my feet to rest them on the coffee table. "They deliver?"

            "We could ask." 

            "Good," I murmur, closing my eyes and tilting my head back.  

            "I'm going to the bathroom.  We can order something when I get back, okay?" Susan stands up and walks away, her soft footsteps growing fainter with each passing second.  

            My eyes still shut with fatigue I hear a faint knocking sound but quickly dismiss it as Susan making noise while in the bathroom.  I hear her footsteps again and then the sound of the door opening a crack. 

            "Hey Carter," her voice rises in surprise.  I sigh and lean my head back slightly further, bringing a hand to my forehead and rubbing my eyes.  My hand continues backwards to smooth my frizzled hairline and I rise from the couch to try and make myself presentable.  

            I can't help but smile as he walks into the room, dressed suavely in a polo shirt and a pair of dark khakis.  From behind his back, he pulls a bouquet of dried flowers and holds them towards me. 

            I bite my lip and wait for him to come closer.  Susan steps back into the shadows, eagerly watching for the exchange between us. 

            Carter steps forward, and I raise my eyebrows at him.  "John?"

            "I brought you some dried flowers."

            "So I can see." 

            "How are you?"

            "I'm okay."

            He nods. Why the hell are things suddenly so tense between us?  I feel like there's a cape tossed across my body that won't let anything escape my mouth that won't make me sound like a frigid bitch.  I'm so angry with him, but at the same time I want him to take me in his arms and love me like I love him.  I force my face to soften and reach out my hand for his. 

            Carter cracks a smile and eagerly accepts my peace offering.  As our outstretched hands meet, it's all I can do not to fall into his arms.  "I'm glad you came," I whisper so softly, I'm not sure if the words have really passed through my lips. 

            But the glint that shimmers in his deep brown eyes is enough proof that I have.  Susan tilts her head to the side and steps into the light and my view point. "Do you want to stay for some Chinese,  John? Abby was just telling me how hungry she is."

            "Have the cravings started yet?" He wonders aloud.  For a moment, I see something flicker across his face.  I tilt my head to the side and gaze into his eyes.  

            "Oh have they!" Susan exclaims loudly, breaking the terse moment.  "She was feeding pepperoni and pineapple pizza to your child last night."

            Carter's grip on my hand tightens ever so slightly and he chuckles lightly. "That's just … wrong, Abby." He shakes his head in mock disgust.  

            "That's what_ I_ said," Susan adds. 

            "So Chinese, huh?" 

            "Yeah," I reply, still in daze.  Maybe I'm dreaming this.  It's some sort of fantasy being twisted into an evil nightmare.  I want nothing more than to open my eyes and find that this whole situation has flown out the window like a slip of dejected paper in the wind.  

            But it's not.  This is here, this is now, and this is reality.  I snap out of my reverie as Susan discreetly glances at her watch.  

            "Carter, it's really great to see you and all, but I have a shift in … well, I'd better be going." And like that, she's gone.  Together, suspended in silence, John and I watch as she disappears beyond the door.    

            I exhale slowly, as if taking a drag on an invisible cigarette.  Carter stands, inches away nervously shuffling his feet and I hear a barely audible sigh escape his mouth.  Like puppets, we look up at each other at the same time.  Our faces break into tense smiles at the irony. 

            "You're beginning to show," he murmurs softly. I nod mutely. 

            "Won't be long now before I can't hide this anymore."

            Carter looks away and reaches up to massage the back of his neck dramatically.  "Who – When -" He stares me straight in the eye. "What are you going to tell them?"

            "Tell who?"

            He looks uncomfortable, hot and cold, stiff but like jelly.  I can't help but feel a rush of sympathy flood my emotions. "People. Our colleagues at work, your family … whoever."       

            "I'll tell them I'm having a baby."

            "Yeah." He pauses. "They're going to want to know more than that … they'll want to know who the father is."

            "John …"

            "No." He looks up adamantly, his voice suddenly loud and stern. "You can't keep ignoring this, skirting the subject every time I bring it up and hiding behind your own self-pity." He takes a deep breath.  This time, his voice is softer, and I can suddenly read the conflict and pain he's feeling over all of this.  "Are you sure there's no chance this baby can be mine?"

            I throw up my arms in expiration, desperately trying to conceal the tears and anguish that's churning up from my stomach.  "I told you, I got drunk, I slept with a stranger and now I'm pregnant," I hiss.  "If you don't want to have anything to do with this baby, then leave … now."

            He takes a step backwards and puts his face in his hands.  "Stop fighting this, Abby.  I want to be here for you.  I want you to let me be here for you – to help you raise this baby properly.  I want you to let me love you."

            Those damn hormones.  I burst into tears, something I never do in front of anyone, and fall to the floor in a crumpled heap.  In an instant, he's at my side, stroking my hair back from my face, kissing my forehead, whispering sweet nothings into my ear and holding me, like he'll never let go.  And I don't think he will. 

            "Shhh … it'll be okay."

            Minutes later, we're rocking back and forth.  The steady beat of his heart, thumping against my back soothes me like nothing else can.  He breathes steadily; each breath flits gently against my ear and parts a few stray strands of air.  Every couple of seconds, I draw a shaky breath, trying to cleanse myself emotionally.  Periodically, he strokes my hair as we rock, back and forth, back and forth, hypnotically. 

            I'm furious with myself for breaking down like this in front of him.  If anything, I need to show him I'm strong and capable, not the damsel in distress waiting for her brave knight in shining armor to come and rescue her.  

            "I'm sorry," I whisper. 

            "Shhh …" He continues to stroke my hair and I concentrate on taking breaths.  I'm so prone to these violent displays of emotion, like a lightning bolt in a clear dark sky; bursts of pent up energy that are so unlike everything else in my personality.  But they can't be good for my baby, who needs to be my number one concern.  _Take a chill pill, Abby, I remind myself silently.  _

            His arm snakes around my waist and I clutch it, bringing his clenched fist to my lips and running his smooth knuckles across my parched lips.  He watches me with a sense of awed captivation, like he doesn't know what to expect next.  And frankly, I don't know what to expect either. 

            "Still hungry?" He asks softly, barely any sound behind his voice. 

            I shake my head, sensing another talk coming upon us.  But he's silent, waiting for me to make the first move.            

            "I can't do it." 

            "Do what?"

            "Any of this.  You and me.  Raising a baby. Being a mother."

            "You can and you will, Abby."

            I sniffle. "What if the baby is bipolar? How can I do that again?"

            I feel his muscles constrict and he draws a heaving sigh.  "You'll just have to love the baby because it's yours."

            I nod in recognition.  Everything he's saying is true, and none of it is anything that I haven't heard before.  But somehow, hearing it come from his mouth makes it feel almost blessed and I believe it. 

            "There's something else, isn't there?" He prods gently. 

            "Yeah."

            "What is it?"

            "I need to know that you're going to accept this baby for what it is."

            "Your child is my child."

            I shake my head and shift in his arms so that I'm facing him.  "Before we get into anything serious, I need to know that you're never going to question this baby as your own, whether or not that's the truth."

            "Maybe it is …" he suggests quietly. 

            "No! John, that's the point.  I can't put any of us through DNA testing, I'm not willing to cope with the ramifications.  I need to know that you're not going to let this scare you away or pull us further apart."

            "I won't. Believe me, Abby.  Give this a chance."

            Susan's heartfelt words filter through my mind.  _"Sometimes in life you need to take a chance.  You'll get hurt, that's a given, but you can't spend your days protecting yourself from getting hurt.  Because by protecting yourself, you're only hurting yourself even more by not letting things happen as they should.  Don't take to the sidelines, Abby … don't lose him like I lost Mark."_

"Okay."

            "Okay?" I suppose that's the closest I'll ever come to seeing someone's jaw drop to the floor like in the cartoons.  His face is painted with shock and disbelief that breaks into a timid smile. 

            "So where does this leave us?" I ask at the same time as he wonder's aloud, "Are you still mad at me?"

            We laugh. I need this stability in my life right now.  I keep running around in circles, dancing around happiness and steadiness, denying myself a meaningful chance at a great life.  And for what? So I don't get hurt again? Susan is right, her words ring true.  I'm going out on a limb, but things are going to be okay, they have to be.  John doesn't want to hurt me. 

            "I guess we should start things off properly.  I'll traditionally woe you until you finally let me take you on our first date and we'll let things run their natural course from there," John teases, his eyes beginning to sparkle devilishly. 

            "Okay." 

            "Is that all you say anymore?" He wraps his arms around my shoulders and leans in to plant a quick peck on my nose.  A coy smile spreads and I'm flooded with his happiness.  I beg myself not to screw things up royally; this is what I want, what I've always wanted. 

            "I'm hungry now." I suddenly decide, proclaiming it as a decree for him to hear. 

            "Oh are you?" He raises his eyebrows at me.

            "Yeah." I smile at him and his smile widens.  What they say about smiles being contagious, it's true.  

            "What do you feel like?"

            "Indian. I need a good spicy kick."

            He rises from the floor and offers me a hand.  With his help, I heave myself up and run a hand along my front to smooth the wrinkles.  Nodding at me first for approval, he takes a hand and rests it atop my very slightly rounded belly.  "Our baby."

            "Yeah." I murmur, overcome by his simple gesture.  

            He nods to himself, eyes focusing on the floor.  "Should we go?"

            I nod and smile at him, "Let's."

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_Reviews would be appreciated. Let us know if this is worth continuing … _


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